'EARLY DAYS IN LEON'A Former Pupil Writes Entertainingly from South Dakotaof Our Early Day Schools. |
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Decatur County Journal Leon, Decatur County, Iowa Thursday, October 08, 1908 EDITOR JOURNAL: -- Is it not about time to have some more reminiscent letters from the old school-mates? To me they form some of the fertile spots in this great Sahara of ours. G.W. SAMSON touched a responsive chord in this old boy's heart when he praised the pretty school girls of Leon, for I have traveled over many countries, but no bunch of girls ever appealed to me as did those bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked girls that attended school in that old brick school-house. I was much interested in PROF. FRAZIER's communication to the JOURNAL of a year ago. His reference to those annual exhibitions reminded me of one that stands out with the distinctness of a hungry coyote, silhouetted against a Dakota sunset. The exhibition to which I refer was held the winter of 1870. There being no town hall or opera house in Leon at that time, the big boys built a stage in one end of the school house and during the intermissions, the girls were very busy transforming sheets into flys and curtains. The scenery that graced the occasion was an ancient steel engraving of the Father of His Country, which was suspended just below the ceiling. Of course, the contrivances were awkward in their construction, meagre in their appointment (the boards of the stage occasionally springing up, the sheets sometimes refusing to perform their function) but the fervid imagination of the audience readily supplied all that was lacking, for the school exhibition at that time was more to the public than it as ever been since. It is their club, their library, their magazine all in one. Forty years ago the trend of all endeavor was toward the tragic, just as everything now days runs to comedy. In other words we were pessimists, although we had never heard of pessimism, optimism and numerous other 'isms that are worked so hard in this strenuous age. This special exhibition had been much talked of and rehearsals had been going on for several weeks. Finally, the long looked-for event was at hand and the school house was packed. The program opened with a song of greeting by nearly all the scholars. The first number announced was "Logan, Chief of the Mingoes," by MILTON LINDSEY. In those days, physical culture, manual training or domestic science had not been heard of in the public schools, but gestures had suddenly came into fashion. The fever had broken out with a motion song in the A.B.C. room and had worked its way to the high school. MILTON was quite an orator for one of his age and rounded out each sentence with an accompanying gesture. When he reached the eloquent lines, "Logan could not turn on his heel to save his life," MILTON rendered it, "Logan would not turn on his life to save his heel," and suiting the action to the word, revolved on his big boot heel and paused, while the applause that followed was almost deafening. But MILTON did not realize his mistake, but went bravely on to the end and took his seat amidst an ovation that would have made the great Patrick Henry turn green with envy. Next came JOHN S. GARDNER, who gave Napoleon's funeral march on a flute, which produced about thirty shivers to the square inch. Then the lamps were turned low, the curtains slowly drawn, revealing a prison cell. In its center stood EMMA SCHAFFER, fiercely manacled and chained to the floor (NALLY SINCLAIR furnished the log chains). She was enveloped in a mantle of flowing black hair and certainly looked the part of the maniac as she implored the jailor to "Stay, jailor, stay, and hear my woe." How the chills raced up and down and across our backs as the jailor (VERGE PORTER) advanced and receded with his blinking tallow candle. However, the audience was anxiously awaiting the announcement of part second, which was the great temperance drama "Ten Nights in a Bar Room." FRANK P. WARNER took the part of the drunkard; ELSIE ELLIS, the drunkard's wife, and KATE CROSS, little Mary, the drunkard's only child. One scene which I vividly recall, though tragic in its termination, was enough to provoke the mirth of a Bordeaux chief. It was the scene in the bar room in which the drunkard hurls a beer glass at his little daughter's head and fells her to the floor. The audience plainly sees the dying child empty a bottle of red aniline water over her pretty white dress (much too pretty for the child of a drunkard) and the frantic mother rushes in with the words: "They have killed my child! She is dead, dead." The pathetic climax was reached when little EMMA and OLLIE GILHAM stepped before the curtains and softly sang: |
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Put away those little dresses That your darling used to wear; She will need them on earth never, She has climbed the golden stair. |
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But KATE hadn't climbed the golden stair, but had come to life and
climbed upon the chair and was grinning over the sagging sheets at the
weeping audience. The howl of applause that greeted the youthful singer,
or KATE, almost raised the roof of that old school building. Every one
will recall the grand finale, the reformation of the drunkard, etc., and
the acting was not so bad either. The performers had been well trained
and I doubt if the modern class plays with all their skill and
appropriate scenery, could have excelled the efforts or commanded more
genuine appreciation than that which greeted those early amateurs. I enjoyed the poem "Near Forty Years Ago," published in the JOURNAL some time since. It called to my mind so many boys and girls, some of whom I had almost forgotten. I have read it several times and of the numbers mentioned there was but one I could not recall. Who was LIZZIE ZION? I have ransacked my memory unto its remotest corners and failed to find her. Perhaps "October" took advantage of the proverbial poetic license and conjured up the name of LIZZIE ZION to rhyme with IRA RYAN. Be that as it may, the poet overlooked some of the scholars that I remembered best of all. |
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There was AMELIA SOUTHWORTH, Who lived on Eden Prairie, And pretty AMY GAMMON And BILL PERDEW's sister, MARY; There was ESTHER SANGER, Best scholar in her class, And HATTIE ABERNATHY, A bright and comely lass; SAM GATES and HOMER WILSON, FRANK, too, and brother, DAN, HATTIE LINDSEY, METTIE PITMAN, And FISHBORN's HILA ANN; There was FRANK SALES, Who could dance double shuffle, And RAIFF PORTER, who could Lick him in a scuffle; There was--was-- I can't make this rhyming go, But they went to school to FRAZIER Just forty years ago. |
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Yes, it was 1868, just forty years since I first sat in that old school
room, and the years have wrought many changes. Fickle fortunes have whitened this head of mine. I sometimes carry a cane as my gait is not so buoyant as when I chased the other boys over the great hickory logs in our favorite game of wood-tag. PROF. FRAZIER was a teacher that exerted a great influence over his pupils. I remember it was his custom to devote fifteen minutes of each morning to the reading of selections from the classics. Prior to this time my stock of literature had been confined to the yellow backed variety so much in demand at that time, but as the readings progressed and the teacher pointed out the beauties found in "Enoch Arden," Scott's "Lady of the Lake" and Lord Byron's "Isles of Greece" a change came o'er the spirit of my dream and thereafter "The Bandit's Daughter" or "The Trail of the Glittering Spider" and suck ilk had lost the power of fascination. I often think of MR. FRAZIER's untiring patience and forbearance and the thoughtlessness of his pupils. There never was a greater truism penned than: |
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Evil is rought by want of thought As well as want of heart. |
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Another thing I have not forgotten about MR. FRAZIER, he endeavored as
far as possible, to give each pupil individual attention, the one
essential that counts in the art of teaching. Surely the teachers' vocation is a noble work. Their influence may not at once be apparent and, it may never be known how many devote themselves to honorable pursuits, interest in which was first awakened by their teachers. Then let us reach out a friendly hand to this oft discouraged profession and grasp theirs with an earnestness that bespeaks our appreciation. Hoping to hear from others, I am sincerely, X.Y.Z. Deer Lick, S.D., Oct. 2. Copied by Nancee (McMurtrey) Seifert, August 9, 2001 |
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